by Jeff Wheeler
“How I wish I had your gift,” Xisi purred. “You see? I cannot deceive you. Release her. They are obedient to my commands.”
Bingmei saw that Zhuyi still stood apart, watching them with emotionless eyes. Stooping down, Bingmei untraced the glyph, removing the dianxue hold. She offered her hand to Mieshi, who took it and stood. It felt so strange to see Mieshi and Zhuyi together again, without the close bond they’d always shared. It made her grieve for her bond sisters. For all the poor souls who’d been rent apart by the dragons.
She turned back to Xisi.
The queen traced her finger across the meiwood cradle. The baby was squirming in his blankets, looking unsettled and smelling of agitation. “We must make the pact willingly. The glyph is one of the Immortal Words. That binds both sides to fulfill the oath. Once we make it, we cannot double-cross it.”
“How did you learn it?” Bingmei asked her cautiously.
“Echion learned it,” Xisi said. “In another time. Another place.”
“Back when he served the emperor?”
A smell of surprise came from Xisi. “You learned our history in your journeys?”
“Some of it, yes,” Bingmei confessed. She didn’t reveal that she’d learned much of it from Echion and Xisi themselves.
“So you know that my husband stole his throne from the phoenix. After the empress united the kingdoms under her rule, she wanted to usher in an era of peace. Echion was crafty and led her to believe he shared her vision. Soon she gave him more authority, hoping he could help her ensure her legacy of peace and cooperation. She told him of the existence of scrolls containing the Immortal Words. She began to teach them to him but safeguarded the most powerful ones. Most of those can only be used when bonded with a dragon or phoenix. He discovered where they were hidden through treachery.
“There were legends, at the time, of various ways to achieve it. One legend was of a great whale that could swallow a man whole and, after three days, spit him out as an immortal man. It was not true. The one consistent rumor was of a tree. He found its location mentioned in the hidden scrolls. While performing his duties as the empress’s ambassador, he sought it out, but there was no fruit on the tree. Only deadly butterflies. He reasoned that the tree was not barren. It only appeared to be. Like a stand of aspen in winter. What if this tree took longer than the normal growing season to bloom? The only way to pluck its fruit would be to travel forward in time and then return.”
Bingmei nodded slowly. It was the same principle by which Shixian had been conceived. “How did he learn that Immortal Word?” she asked Xisi.
“He found it engraved on an altar in a shrine dedicated to the dragon. That was where he communed and bonded with the Dragon of Night. There was also a warning about the balance, the forces of male and female acting as one. If he ate the fruit alone, he would die. But if he ate it with his wife, they could rule the world together.” She smirked. “Of all the handmaids, I was chosen to be his bride because I was the best at deceit and ambitious enough to desire immortality. The empress married us herself. After our wedding, he flew me to the dragon shrine so that I could bond with the white one. Bound to our dragons and each other, we traveled to the silver-skinned tree to use the word that now held power for us. We traveled together to the future to claim the prize that would empower us to usurp the throne from the empress. My husband never revealed the word to me and made the dragon shrine inaccessible to me. I know all the Immortal Words save that one, Bingmei, the one that conquers time. And neither of us can break the pact. Even after death I am bound to him.”
“If we make the pact, then you must destroy Echion? When?”
“I must begin to act on it immediately,” Xisi said, no deception in her smell. “The magic will create a compulsion that cannot be resisted. Once you make it, you cannot take my Chushuile away from me. If you try, it will compel you to return him to me. You cannot resist it. Believe me . . . I have tried to break my own bond.”
Bingmei closed her eyes again, despair washing over her. Even hearing Xisi’s name for her son made her want to retch. Must I do this? she pleaded in her mind. Is there not another way?
She heard no voice in response. She’d already heard the answer twice.
“In all likelihood, Bingmei,” Xisi said, “you will die facing Echion. Even when he is mortal. At least you know that the child has a loving mother. And that he is destined to rule all kingdoms. Take solace in that if you can.” Her smile was not tender. It was meant to wound.
Bingmei approached the cradle, and Xisi gave her a warning look and pointed her claw at the baby’s throat again. “Make the pact first. I will allow you to hold your child. After.”
Her heart started to feel numb with the stress and agony of the choice. Bingmei nodded.
“Very well. I will draw the glyph. Do you vow to give me possession of your child, to raise as I see fit? To be his lawful mother?”
“I swear it,” Bingmei said thickly.
“And I vow to turn my husband, the Dragon of Night, mortal henceforth. I do this of my own will and pleasure. Repeat it thus, Bingmei.”
Her throat clenched. “I do this of my own will and pleasure.”
“So let it be said, so let it be done,” Xisi murmured and drew the glyph of Xieyi. As Xisi’s finger traced the symbol in the air, sparks of magic flared from it, ripples of blue and yellow and white brightening the dark room. The glyph itself grew brighter as it was finished, so bright it burned her eyes to look at it. She shielded her eyes with her hands. Then all went dark.
“There,” Xisi said. “It is written in the heart of a star. It cannot be undone.”
Bingmei opened her eyes, feeling half-blinded by the promise she’d made. Mieshi and Zhuyi stood impassively, watching her grief with no emotion themselves. Xisi bubbled with excitement. Because of her hatred, she wanted to kill Echion again, to rule the world in his stead. She felt she’d won twice over in their bargain.
What have I done? Bingmei thought in despair, gazing down at Shixian. She stepped toward the meiwood cradle, hungry to touch her child.
Xisi reached down and lifted the babe in an almost tender gesture. “You are mine, now. My son. My heir.” But the smell that came from her wasn’t the cinnamon porridge smell. It was the lemony scent of greed, of lust for power and dominion.
Xisi handed the child to Bingmei. Feeling his little body through the soft blanket made her weep. She stared at his familiar face, at the little dusting of hair across his scalp. His eyes fluttered open as she cradled him. She felt love pour from him as a grin appeared on his mouth that hurt more than a hundred sword wounds. She clutched the baby to her, sobbing uncontrollably, wanting to flee Fusang and take him back to the snow-capped mountains. But the magic instantly responded to her urge, sending a wave of weakness through her. She couldn’t flee with him. She would be forced to obey the pact, just as Xisi had said.
She kissed her son’s cheeks, her tears wetting his soft skin. Shixian wriggled with joy, feeling her presence, recognizing his mother. He let out a little cooing noise that shattered her heart.
Her grief was so powerful it even affected Xisi, who stared at her with incomprehension.
“Give him back,” Xisi commanded.
The compulsion struck her. She tried to fight against it, to savor her moment, but her arms wouldn’t obey her. She handed the child over, even though it nearly killed her to do so. Once Xisi held him again, she gave Bingmei a mocking smile.
“Will it be worth it, in the end?” Xisi asked.
Bingmei wasn’t sure. It was the hardest thing she’d ever had to do. Eyes still wet, she glared at Xisi. “Do your part of the bargain.”
“I am. I will. It will be my pleasure.” She glanced at Mieshi and Zhuyi. “Stay here and guard her. After I am done with the dragon, I need to make sure the army of Sihui is destroyed. Then, and only then, will I release you from your cage, little bird, so that you might slay the dragon yourself.”
Bingmei’s stomach plung
ed.
“I intend to rule for a long, long time. That tiresome general needs to be out of the way. And the blind prince has been lonely for far too long.”
Her words were meant to cut Bingmei to the heart. And they did.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Caged
The ache of separation from her child throbbed inside her chest. It was a wound that would never heal. Xisi had departed with the baby, leaving Bingmei alone with her former bond sisters. Zhuyi reclaimed her saber, and Mieshi took the rune staff. She examined the symbols dispassionately.
“Do you even remember Kunmia Suun?” Bingmei asked her, feeling the pain tighten around her heart. Although she knew the answer—their emotions had been stripped from them, not their memories—her own raw feelings compelled her to ask. She would give anything for a friend right now, and these two looked like her friends.
“I remember my old life,” Mieshi said, still gazing at the meiwood. “But I feel nothing from it. Emotion is a nuisance.”
“You grieved when Zhuyi was killed,” Bingmei said. “Remember?”
“We cannot be touched by sentiment anymore,” Zhuyi said. “We are beyond the griefs of this world. Only loyalty matters now.”
“But why?” Bingmei pressed. “You were once loyal to Kunmia.” She shifted her gaze back to Mieshi. “And you were loyal to me.”
“We serve our mistress,” Mieshi said. “You are the enemy now, Bingmei.”
But there was no enmity in the words. There was no feeling at all.
“How did she bring your body-soul back without your spirit?” Bingmei asked.
“What does it matter?” Mieshi said. “It is done. It cannot be undone.”
“Are you sure of that?” There was no way to tell whether she was lying. But it didn’t feel like dishonesty. Perhaps she simply believed what she’d been told. But her response lacked any emotion for Bingmei’s nose to detect.
“Why would she want to feel again?” Zhuyi said. “Fear, pain, regret. Those are crippling emotions.”
“I once loved a man,” Mieshi said. “Damanhur. But we quarreled constantly. I don’t understand that part of myself anymore. Why I cared what he thought of me. It no longer matters. He was executed after capture. We serve the mistress now.”
A chill ran through her. Mieshi was talking about Damanhur’s death, his execution, as if it were nothing more important than the weather. Her bond sisters’ devotion to Xisi was like a spell blotting out their personal will.
“Has anyone else survived? Anyone from the original ensign?”
Mieshi looked at her impassively. “Marenqo lives. He serves the Dragon of Night, not our mistress.”
“His ability to speak languages makes him useful,” Zhuyi said.
“Were you two captured together?” Bingmei asked Mieshi. The ensign had been forced to disband as they approached the Death Wall, to make it more difficult for Echion’s minions to find them.
“We were,” Mieshi said. “And we were brought back here as prisoners. The mistress claimed me because of my beauty and martial skill. Echion claimed Marenqo for his usefulness. He crept into the training yard one day to try and plot with me to escape. I turned him in.”
Bingmei felt a spasm of dread. “Do you know what happened to him?”
“He was punished.”
Her heart went out to Marenqo. How had he been punished? She didn’t know, but she worried for him. It didn’t surprise her to hear he’d been working with the dragon. A servant would live to fight another day.
Bingmei hated being a prisoner again. She gazed up at the closed windows and wanted to fly up and wrench them open. But she still felt the Immortal Words binding all the exits shut. She couldn’t overturn the words someone else had written. What other words would help her? A burning sigil? One for strength or speed? Her mind raced for a word that would help her in this situation, but she felt she was trapped.
Mieshi and Zhuyi were not impatient or bored by their assignment to guard her. They did not pace, they just stood at attention by the screen door. It seemed to be the only way out of the room. She’d have to fight them both to free herself.
Bingmei sat on the bed, legs folded, and went into a meditative state. Although she did not yet have a way to physically escape the room, her consciousness could escape.
Closing her eyes, she sank into herself and searched for birds. Some were right outside on the roof. She knew there were caged birds in Xisi’s chambers, so she flung her consciousness from one bird to another until she got there. Xisi was gone, but Shixian lay asleep in the middle of her bed, nestled in some silk blankets. She lingered there a moment, allowing herself to look at him. All she could do was look at him. Even if she escaped, she wouldn’t be able to take him with her. Heart full of sadness, she went next to the Hall of Unity, gliding across the massive courtyard on the wings of a bird. Servants bustled about in small groups. So many had been summoned to serve at the palace. Bingmei saw a group of concubines walking together as well, and she remembered the painstaking labors they performed to present themselves to their overseers.
A little wren was perched atop the Hall of Unity, so she glided over to it and shifted her consciousness. The bird heeded her coaxing and flew through the upper windows of the darkened palace. She saw Rowen pacing in the room, a look of agitation on his face. His fists were clenched, and he brooded in his own private darkness. She understood why—he could sense she was somewhere on the palace grounds.
The wren flapped inside, and Rowen immediately whirled at the sound, his face turning up sightlessly.
The bird landed on a meiwood rafter, its little head bobbing one way, then another. She tried to calm the bird, to get it to stay.
Rowen slowly approached where the bird had landed. “I heard you come,” he said. “Where are you now, little bird?” He murmured, “I’m talking to a bird. Well, there’s no one else to talk to.” He walked up and put his hand on a nearby table, feeling along its surface for something. “Come closer. Are you a sparrow? I won’t hurt you.”
She could see the look of hope and anguish in his pleading expression. Bingmei’s heart panged for him. If she could not free Shixian, she would free Rowen instead. They would do this together.
Can you hear me, Rowen? she thought to him. Say something if you can.
Rowen didn’t react to her thoughts. He kept groping at the table, then he dropped to his knees and thumped the surface with his fist before squeezing his hands before his eyes. “How much longer can I endure this? I feel her so close. I’m in terror from it. Fly, Bingmei. Fly from this awful place. Save yourself. You cannot save me.”
His fist struck the table again, but there was no real violence to it. Rather, he seemed defeated. His shoulders slumped.
Filled with the resolve to escape, and to take Rowen with her, she left the bird and shifted to another. At length, she found the siskin again, still hovering at the window of her prison. It slammed itself against the wooden lattice, trying to knock it open. Bingmei thought it was exceptionally brave, but it was so tiny it couldn’t budge the wood.
She settled herself into it, feeling the frustration within its tiny skull.
You are too small, she whispered to it. You cannot break through.
The siskin flared out its quivering chest, anxious to keep trying. Was her phoenix-sister trying to help her still?
No, little bird. You need someone bigger. Someone who can open it for you.
The siskin responded to her thought with excitement. It hopped back and forth on the ledge.
Listen to me, little bird. There is a man here at the palace. He is my friend. In her mind, she thought of Marenqo, and she shared the thought with the bird. The siskin chirped with enthusiasm. Find him. Bring him here.
The siskin wondered how to get the human to follow it. Most people ignored birds or tried to kill them.
Go find a string of white silk. Bring it to him. He knows my hair is white. It will remind him. Keep bringing him pieces of s
tring until he follows you. Go, little siskin. Help me escape.
The siskin took off at once to begin the search. It had found little Shixian and the concubine. It could find Marenqo as well. Bingmei’s consciousness traveled with the siskin as it flew away from the queen’s quarter toward the larger section of the palace.
On the way, Bingmei caught sight of a parade of six servants walking alongside Xisi toward the Hall of Memory. She detached from the siskin and dropped down to a blackbird hiding amidst some flowerpots. Sunlight still hadn’t reached the passageway, and the maidens walked with little puffs of frost coming from their mouths.
Bingmei felt the presence of another bird and swept into it next, following the parade as they made their way. The two guards stationed at the doors saw the queen coming. Bingmei nudged the bird to fly closer until she could see the expressions of the guards, since she couldn’t smell them.
“Dread queen,” one of them stammered. “The dragon has not summoned you.”
“I bring news he will want to hear,” Xisi answered. “And a gift. Open the door.”
“My lady, he is . . . resting.”
“Open the door, or I will open it with your body,” she answered.
The guard looked pale with dread. He gestured to the other one, and they began to heave on the heavy handles, pulling open the red-painted doors. The six maidservants exchanged nervous glances. One of them held a stone bottle in her hands.
Xisi and her servants stepped over the doorstep and entered the majestic palace.
Bingmei urged the bird to fly in through the open doors, which were twice as tall as a person, but the bird balked in fear.
Please! she coaxed.
The bird swooped in and soared around the vast palace. Bingmei saw the two stone sarcophagi in the center of the room, the lids fixed in place. Also in the chamber was the Phoenix Blade, suspended within the jaws of a dragon statue high above them. Bingmei felt it tug at her mind, but she couldn’t have touched it even if she’d been physically present. Dark magic still connected it to Echion.
There were no servants inside the room. The windows were all shuttered, keeping it dark. A loud gong sounded outside in the courtyard.